Gone
by heyhihellohard
Summary: "Man up, DiNozzo! Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop hiding behind your search for her. NCIS needs you, your friends need you, and, most of all, your family needs you. It's time to face the music: Ziva is gone, but the rest of your life is not! "
1. Man up, DiNozzo!

**2016**

In the quiet of the small, dark motel room that she had the displeasure to call home, Ziva lit the tiny candle that rested on top of the chocolate cupcake.

"Happy birthday" she said to the shadows that surrounded her. As she watched the little orange flame move as if it had a life of its own, Ziva felt the full weight of the notion that, somewhere far away from that motel room, they were thinking about her. Most of them would probably keep the thoughts to themselves, refusing to mention her out loud, but she was sure she was in all of their minds. Given the special nature of that day, she let the tears come out, just this once. She hated crying, it made her feel weak and powerless. Still, even after all the time that had passed, keeping her eyes dry was still a challenge.

In the next morning, she'd wake up with her eyes red and swollen and she'd regret letting her emotions take over. But, at the moment, as the flames danced every time she drew a breath, all she wanted was to grieve for the family that she had lost. The family that she had left behind. The worst part wasn't even the loneliness, she had learned to carry that around with her. What hurt the most was knowing that, at that exact same second, sitting at his desk in the NCIS headquarters, he was probably in pain too. And she hated herself for that.

**. . .**

McGee waited quietly in the corner of the break room, hoping she wouldn't see him there. No such luck.

"There you are. " said Abby, slightly annoyed. "You've been avoiding me, haven't you? Both of you?"

"What" he played innocent. She saw right through him.

"Where's Tony?"

"Geez, I don't know, Abbs, haven't seen him all ..."

"That's bullshit, McLiar." he couldn't help but to smile. She looked so adorable while trying to sound intimidating. It was like watching a puppy doing its best impression of Gibbs. "You know exactly where it is. You two have been hiding from me because we all know what day today is and I'm the only one willing to talk about it!"

Her tone made him realize how upset she was. "Look, Abbs ... Different people have different ways to deal with ... things. I spoke to Tony earlier today and he really just wants to be alone. I know and he knows that you're just trying to help but ..."

"I'm sorry" she rested her head in his chest, drying the tears in his jacket. "It's just that ... I don't know what to do. I want to help, I want to make Tony feel better. Cause, if I feel this bad, imagine how he feels, McGee! Imagine how sad he is!"

"I know. I know. " he hugged her. He wanted to give her a good, comforting answer, but he simple didn't have one.

. . .

"I knew I'd find you here." said Gibbs while closing the door behind him. Sitting in front of one of the many cabinets in the Filing Room, DiNozzo ran his fingers through a particularly large stack of papers. "I thought we agreed that you should stop looking."

"We did. I really should stop looking. But I don't care about what I should or should not be doing. If there was any chance Shannon was still alive, would you stop looking?"

"No. And it would've eaten me up, it would've destroyed me and hurt all the people I care about. Do you want that, DiNozzo?"

"I want her, Boss. I want to find her. I need to find her. "

Gibbs nodded, sitting beside his best agent in the cold floor. "It's been two years, DiNozzo. If she is still alive, I think it's safe to say she doesn't want to be found. "

"Or someone doesn't want her found." Tony didn't say any names, but they were written all over his face.

"We've spoken to Mossad. They swore they don't know her whereabouts. In fact, they've offered to help with the search, remember?"

"Bullshit. As if they'd tell us if they ..."

Gibbs gave him a hard look. They had had that conversation countless times before. Both of them knew there was no point in continuing. They sat there, quietly, until Gibbs decided to break the silence.

"Abbs is upset. Says you've been hiding from her."

"I ... I'm sorry. I just didn't feel like facing hurricane Abigail just yet. " Tony didn't mean to hurt Abby, but she had the annoying habit of dealing with her emotions in a rather explosive manner. In that same day, the year before, he ended up regretting seeing her. She just wanted to make him feel better, but the hugs and the tears made it all seem so ... final. It felt like they were accepting that Ziva was gone, accepting that she was never coming back. And he'd never accept that.

"She also told me she's not the only one you've been avoiding. You haven't seen Dave all day?"

Tony lowered his head, ashamed. "Not since this morning."

The slap in the back of his head was so sudden and strong it took him a few seconds to put himself back together. A lot of time had passed since the last time he got one of those.

"Man up, DiNozzo! Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop hiding behind your search for her. NCIS needs you, your friends need you, and, most of all, your family needs you. It's time to face the music: Ziva is gone, but the rest of your life is not! "

**. . .**

At the NCIS day care center, only two kids still waited to go home. Sitting in one of the many surprisingly comfortable green chairs, Breena Palmer watched her little girl play with her friend. Jimmy was supposed to be there already, but some autopsy ended up taking longer than expected. They only had one car, so, every night, she'd come to pick him up only to find out that he'd be late. It annoyed her a bit, but she understood. Jimmy loved his work, and she loved her Jimmy.

The place, itself, was great. Better than any of those expensive day care centers they had visited. It was a large room, with light green walls, a fluffy cream rug covering the floor, every single piece of furniture completely baby-proofed, at least two nurses always available to make sure the kids were safe and happy. Breena didn't like to leave Alison there all day, but they didn't have many options. She wasn't willing to stop working, and neither was Jimmy.

"Hey, Breena."

"Oh, hi Tony. Working late as always, huh?" she had been so focused on Ali she didn't even notice him coming in.

"Sort of. Jimmy stood you up again?"

"I'm used to it. Duty calls, I get it. "

"You're too good for him. " he smiled and walked over to the couple of kids playing with huge pieces of Lego, sitting in the rug beside them. "So, what are you two doing?"

"We're building a house!" answered Alison, proud. The three year old girl was the spitting image of her mother. Lucky her.

"House!" repeated the little boy, pointing at their work, excited. He had developed the habit of repeating everything everybody said. To him, every word he learned meant a mystery solved.

"Yes, house! What else can you name, big guy?"

He looked around, thinking, his little hand scratching his chin. He settled for a toy that lay in the ground beside him. "Plane!" he shouted, pointing. "Plane!"

"Anything else?"

The boy smiled, pointing at Tony. "Daddy."

"That's right. And who is this?" Tony laughed, his finger touching the little boy's stomach.

"Dave!"

"Very good, you tiny genius. Now I have a challenge for you. " He pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed the boy his screensaver. "Who is this?"

Dave furrowed his brow, hesitant, trying to remember what his father had taught him. "Mommy."

"Exactly." He grabbed the boy from the floor, pulling him on a hug so he wouldn't see the water in his eyes. "Say goodbye to Ali, Dave."

"Bye, Ali!" he waved. While he liked to play with the other kids, Dave was never sad when he had to leave. To him, leaving meant spending time with his father and his father's team, and that was his favorite part of the day.

Outside the day care center, Abby was waiting for them.

"Hey there, little prince." She said, stealing him away from his father's arms. "Tony, I'm sor…"

"No, I am, Abbs. I've been so focused on finding her I have been avoiding the other people I care about, the people that are still here. "

She just nodded and turned to Dave, not knowing what to say in response. "Hey, handsome, do you know what day this is?"

"No. " he answered, confused.

"Today is your Mommy's birthday. "

"Mommy!" Dave pointed at Tony's phone, smiling.

He tried to wipe the tears away before she saw them, but failed miserably. He felt so pathetic. A grown man, crying over a woman that had left him years before. Still, he couldn't believe that she'd just…leave it all behind, her friends, her work, her boyfriend, her son. He knew Ziva, he knew she wouldn't miss out on David's childhood if it was up to her. She just wouldn't.


	2. Camille Durand

**2013**

The room was immersed in an absolute silence that could only be found at 4 a.m. in a Monday. The only sound he could hear was her calm, slow breathing beside him. Tony had developed the habit of waking up around that time to use the bathroom. He was about to get up when he realized something was off.

"Can't sleep?" he whispered in her ear, his hand gently touching her shoulder.

"I _was _sleeping." She tried to sound tired and annoyed.

"You can't fool me, David. I'm a Senior Field Agent. And I _know _you weren't sleeping."

Ziva laughed and opened her eyes, defeated. "How did you know?"

"Magician never reveals his tricks."

"Stop being such a dwarf."

It was his turn to laugh. "Dork."

"Yes, dork. Stop being such a dork. How did you know, Mr. Senior Field Agent?"

He shrugged. "You weren't snoring."

She threw a pillow at him, pretending to be offended. "I do not snore."

"And Gibbs is a talk show host. Oh, wait…did I just say the complete opposite of the truth?"

"Can we not discuss Gibbs while we are in bed, please?"

"Stop changing the subject, you dwarf." He sat up, giving her a worried look. "What's keeping you up?"

"Nothing. Go back to sleep, Tony."

"Nothing… that's the international code word for 'something is bothering me'. C'mon. What is it?"

"I do not want to talk about it." She buried her face on the pillow, running away from his gaze.

"I do. What is it?" She turned her head so she could see him again, her face so pale and her eyes so filled with fear that she reminded him of the Ziva he met in Somalia a few years before.

"Tony…"

He ran his fingers through his hair. "What? Am I going bald or something?"

The joke came out nervous and uncertain, but she laughed anyway. "No, you are not going bald, Tony…" she trailed off again, looking for words she didn't seem to able to find.

All that hesitating was making him nervous. "Just tell me, Ziva."

"I am…We are…" she didn't have to courage to actually say it, and she didn't need to. It was written all over her face.

He glanced at her abdomen, then back at her. "Oh my god, you're pregnant."

"Yes." she sighed, relieved it was finally out there. "I took the test three times. I am definitely pregnant."

He pretended not to notice the little tremor she had while saying the word. They both sat there, paralyzed, for what felt like an eternity. Uncomfortable, Tony spoke. "We're really doing this, aren't we?"

"We are." She nodded, clearly terrified. Ziva had never really considered kids. Children simply weren't in Eli David's supersoldier plan.

"We are going to have a baby!" he kissed her and jumped out of the bed, pulling her up with him. His smile was so bright and genuine it calmed her down.

"C'mon, we've got things to do."

"Such as…?"

"Finding a new place." He gestured to his small, messy apartment. "We can't raise a baby in here."

**2016**

"Morning, Ms. Durand." Said Miguel Valdez, one of the motel employees. She smiled at the strange sound a Mexican man trying to speak English gave to her French last name.

"Morning, Miguel." One of the hardest parts of her new identity was remembering to change her accent every single time she spoke. It was safer that way, though. If she stayed Israeli, tracking her down would be ridiculously easy. In a small town like that one, being a foreigner drew unnecessary attention. She hoped that, by changing nationalities, her identity would be protected. After all, they were looking for an Israeli brunette, not a French blonde. "Could you tell Carlos I'm leaving, please?"

"Will you be coming back?"

She hesitated for a second. "No."

"Ok. Goodbye, Ms. Durand."

"Bye." She walked past him, clenching her fingers around the cold metal handle of her small leather suitcase, wondering where Camille Durand would be going next. She had been staying in that motel for almost three months, it was obviously time to leave. However, she still didn't know her next destination. They day before, Monique had called to tell her to pack up her things, go to the airport and wait for a text with further instructions. Ziva didn't like to be kept in the dark. She hated the running, hated the blonde hair, hated the blue contact lenses and hated having so little control over her own life. _But Ziva is dead, _she told herself once again. _And Camille Durand will take what she can get._

She hailed a cab two blocks from the Motel entrance. The car had the typical strong scent of cigarettes and alcohol that reminded her of the suite she had been living in for the past three months. The leather that protected the seats looked like an abstract painting. She was able to identify burn marks, ashes, dried vomit and a pink colored stain that she was almost completely sure was blood. She had been to torture chambers that looked more inviting than that place.

"The airport, please." She said to the driver, a man in his fifties wearing a white shirt damp with sweat and a Yankees baseball cap. He was Middle Eastern, she could tell. She wondered if he could tell too, if he could see through her disguise, if he could see Ziva hidden behind Camille Durand's blue eyes.

"Ok." He barely glanced at her, keeping his eyes on the wheel. She sighed, realizing how irrational was her fear of having her cover blown by a cabbie just because they came from the same continent. Part of her wanted someone to recognize her, even though she knew that her life depended on her identity being kept a secret. It had been way too long since the last time anybody looked at her and saw NCIS Special Agent Ziva David.

**. . .**

Lying awake in his king sized bed, Tony stared at the ceiling. Once again, he couldn't sleep. He had tried everything: happy thoughts, glass of warm milk, counting sheep… Nothing worked.

That enormous wooden bed was 15 years old. He bought it with Wendy, back then when he actually believed he was going to marry her. He had lost count of how many other women had slept in it. Jeanne Benoit, E.J. Barrett, Brenda Bittner… Still, every time he looked at that bed, all he could think about was how empty it felt without that damn Israeli ninja assassin who stole his heart and disappeared with it. Every single night of those two years he struggled to fall asleep, sometimes because of his son's cries, but mostly because the silence bothered him. He smiled at the realization that he couldn't sleep because he missed the ridiculously loud sound of her snoring.

He was still awake when his alarm clock told him it was time for work. Tony got up quickly, relieved to have something else on his mind other than Ziva.

"Wake up, big guy." He whispered gently to his son after taking a quick shower and putting on his favorite Armani suit.

"No." the little boy answered decisively, his eyes still tightly shut.

"Yes!" he lifted Dave up in a sudden move. The boy didn't appreciate it much, but he had already gotten used to his father's ways to wake him up. "Now, which shirt do you want to wear today: Iron Man or Batman?"

"Iron Man!"

While still holding the kid, Tony opened up his small, white closet and got a red Iron Man shirt, white shorts and red Velcro Converse All Stars. He dressed the boy while telling him a story about Iron Man and his friends, The Avengers. Putting clothes on made Dave really impatient, but Tony had learned that a story about a movie would almost always calm him down. That was one of the many things he and his son had in common. The love for movies, the hair color, the DiNozzo charm… But not the eyes. He had his mother's dark, mysterious eyes. In the first few months after Ziva's disappearance, it was truly hard for Tony to look at his son. He loved his child more than he ever thought he'd be able to love anything, but he kept seeing her in his little eyes, and seeing her hurt way too much.

Eventually, though, he got used to it. He started doing the exact opposite of trying not to see her: he put pictures of her everywhere he could. In the walls, in the fridge, in his phone, in his computer, in his wallet. He wanted his son to get used to her face, he wanted David to know that that face belong to his mom so, once she got back, he'd recognize her. There wasn't a single moment in those two years in which he really considered the possibility of her not coming back. Tony pictured his 80 year old self holding onto the photo of a girl that had been lost for 40 years. That thought saddened him. He didn't want to be one of those stubborn grandpas who can't let go of the past, but he couldn't imagine himself ever letting go of her.

**. . . **

She looked at her watch impatiently. Her flight would be leaving in an hour. She was lucky to get there soon enough to catch it. In that small airport, there was only one flight a day that could take her to her destination. "_São Paulo, Brazil" _was all Monique's text actually said, but the usual "You'll know more when you get there" was implied. Ziva understood why they had to keep contact to a minimum, but she wished they didn't have to. She wished…god, she wished so many things.

She had been to São Paulo before, in a particularly unpleasant Mossad assignment. There was nothing wrong with the city itself, but things got out of hand and she ended up making some very powerful enemies. Looking back in her Mossad days, she realized making enemies was one of the things she did the most. Her young, reckless self knew that one day those enemies could come back to haunt her, but she didn't care. Mossad operatives usually didn't live to see their 30th birthday, she figured she'd be long gone before any one of her ghosts had a chance to catch up with her. She never thought she'd find something worth living for, something worth protecting. She was wrong, and now it was up to Camille Durand to clean up young Ziva David's mess.


	3. Unfinished Sentences

**2013**

"I can't keep this up, Ziva." He grabbed her arm while she walked past him, pulling her to the partially hidden spot behind the staircase where they had most of their intimate conversations. "We gotta tell them. If we don't, I'm going to blab and they'll find out anyway. I'm not good with secrets, you said so yourself, remember?"

She sighed. "I know. But how exactly will that conversation go, Tony? They do not even know we are…"

Ziva didn't finish the sentence, as usual.

"Together. Just say it, for god's sake. For someone who is so brave when it comes to weapons, you have an uncanny fear of words."

"It is not the words that I fear, Tony." She was so clearly out of her comfort zone he felt guilty for pushing her. "It is the meaning beside them. What are we, really? We have been… together for barely a month and now we are going to have a child. And, yes, I fear that, I am _terrified _by that."

"Which is why we need to tell them. They're our friends, Ziva. They can help. You're not in this alone, I'm with you. And they're with us. We're going to be ok." He took a step closer to her, his voice calm and steady in contrast to her stressed, nervous tone.

"How can you be so glass half full about this?" she wanted to shout, but they were still in the middle of the NCIS headquarters, so she had to settle for gesturing angrily, taking a step back and keeping the distance between them. "This is not one of your movies, a happy ending is not guaranteed. Do you really think it is going to be that easy? Do you really think Gibbs is going to be flattered once he finds out that we have been breaking Rule 12 _and_ I am going to be on maternity leave for god knows how long? And, once the baby is born, how is that going to work? Do you expect me to stop working? Because I am most certainly not going to. Where are we going to leave the kid? We are federal agents, our lives are on the line every day. What if something happens to one of us? What if something happens to both of us? The only reason you are so calm is that you have not seriously thought about it yet!"

The argument had gone way too far. Her face was paper white, her body shaking in fear and anger. In the last 8 years, he had learned how to read her pretty well. Behind the dark circles around her eyes, Tony could see how lost she was, and he desperately wanted to help, but he didn't know how. "Ziva, calm down…"

His words only made it worse. "You cannot expect me to calm down!" she stopped, closed her eyes and let out a slow breath, trying her best not to yell. "I am not ready to share this with the world, Tony. Not while I still have not figured out what 'this' is and what 'this' means. Can you respect that?"

"Yes." There was no point in arguing with her. _Hormones,_ he thought to himself, but deep down he knew that was just an excuse. She actually meant what she said, nothing hormonal about it, but he didn't want to believe it. She was right: he hadn't thought about it that way. That kid was going to bring a ton of problems, he had subconsciously chosen to ignore that. Cause, if he started to _really_ think about the consequences of that pregnancy… he'd lose it, just like she was losing it.

**2016**

McGee lifted his eyes from his computer screen to greet Tony. "Feeling better?"

He sat in his desk and shrugged. "Not feeling worse."

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Tim noticed how tired his partner looked.

"Nope." Tony was listening to McGee, but had his eyes stuck on the desk across from him. Given the history that desk had, first Kate then Ziva, the team talked to Vance and he agreed to leave it vacant, in honor of the fallen. _Fallen_, the word had a sour taste in his mouth. He remembered Kate's lifeless body, her pale, cold skin and the tiny red hole in her forehead that stole the light that used to be in her eyes. He couldn't help but imagine Ziva lying beside her, an identical gunshot wound in her head, her eyes as dead as Kate's. The thought of it made him sick.

"Did you sleep at all in the last two years?"

"Not much."

McGee sighed, concerned. "Look, Tony, I can't possibly imagine what you're going through but…I'm worried about you. You're always tired. It's affecting your work. The agency is sympathetic to your situation, but…we need the old DiNozzo back."

"The old DiNozzo doesn't have a two year old keeping him up all night." He answered harshly, still hiding from McGee's gaze.

"Oh, c'mon, Tony… we both know he's not what keeps you up all night."

"Just looking at that bed…" he started, but didn't have the courage or the wish to continue.

"Then get a new bed! Get a new car, get a new place if you want. All I know is: you need to start sleeping again, you need to shave more often, maybe even start jogging…"

He raised his eyebrows. "Are you calling me fat, Probie?"

"No, but you let that suspect get away last month because you couldn't catch him."

Tony closed his eyes and used two fingers to press the tiny spot between his eyebrows. "I haven't figured out how this works yet. How do I conceal being an agent with being a father and being a loser who can't get over his girlfriend?"

Tim smiled. "If she had dumped you, then I'd call you a loser. But she disappeared, Tony, and left you with a newborn baby. Holding onto her makes you human, not a loser. I am not telling you to forget her. Hell, I'm not going to forget her, you shouldn't either. But you need to figure out a way to function without her. And, if you need any help with that, we're all here for you."

"I know. And I appreciate it."

"Grab your gear!" out of nowhere as always, Gibbs' call drew their attention. "We've got a dead marine in a subway station."

**. . . **

Sitting uncomfortably in the limited space of her seat, Ziva observed the blonde little girl begging her mother to give her more chocolate. She usually did her best to avoid any situations involving children, but, stuck in that plane, she didn't have much choice. She liked kids, but not the questions they always brought up. That was the one line she knew she couldn't cross, the one thing she knew she couldn't allow herself to overthink. Thinking about her team was painful, thinking about Tony was torture, but thinking about that tiny little package she barely had a chance to look at… that was just unbearable.

She didn't even know his name. What kind of a mother doesn't know her son's name? What kind of a mother can't tell what her child looks like? What kind of a mother misses her baby's first steps, his first words?

In his first birthday, she begged Monique for his name. Harsh and focused as always, her friend told her that Tony had given him up for adoption. It was a lie, Ziva was sure of it. She saw the way he looked at that baby, he'd do anything for their son. _At least one of his parents will have his back, _she thought to herself.

She wondered what he was like. Was he blonde or brunette? Were his eyes dark like hers or hazel like Tony's? Was he slim or fat? Was he tall or short for his age? Was he intelligent? Was he sweet? Was he funny?

Ziva wasn't sure of which made her angrier at herself: the fact that she completely missed out on the first two years of her son's life or the fact that Tony had to go through it alone. _You're not in this alone, I'm with you, _he had said to her years before. During those ten months they spent together, he kept his word. Every morning sickness, every little scare, every single doctor's appointment… there he was. He probably would've kept it forever, but she made that impossible for him. Who would've thought she'd be the one to break his promise? They were supposed to have been a team, and she ruined it. She left him with a nameless newborn without even saying goodbye, and he had to face it all on his own. He probably hated her for that. She deserved it.

**. . .**

Leon Vance pressed his temples, trying to shake away the headache and the guilt. He truly wished he didn't have to do those kinds of things, but he was the Director of NCIS. He had to put the agency before the agents.

"You can't be serious." Gibbs sat in the chair across from him, clearly unhappy.

"I'm afraid I am, Jethro." He sighed, feeling like the most horrible,cold hearted monster in the world. "It's been two years. I try to be comprehensive about his situation, but NCIS comes first. He's not even 10% the agent he used to be."

"Which is still better than most of the replacements you have in mind, I'll bet."

"Most of them, maybe. But not all of them. I was skeptical of DiNozzo's potential at first, but in the years I worked with him, he proved me wrong. He was one hell of an agent, I admit it. But, since the incident with Agent David, he changed. I get what he is going through, but I don't think 10% is enough."

"You have no idea of what he is going through! He lost the mother of his child, Leon! He was left with a baby and no clue of what to do." Gibbs' tone was loud and filled with rage. He stood up before continuing. "Do you remember what it was like when your kids were little? Imagine going through that alone, while every look at your baby reminds you of the woman you loved. 10% isn't enough? If it had been either one of us, we wouldn't be able to do 5%."

That was definitely the worst part of his job. He agreed with Gibbs completely, but his hands were tied. Leon had never been good at defend a cause he didn't even believe on.

"Maybe not. And we would've gotten fired for it. He's got a month, Jethro. If he doesn't get his act together by then…"

Gibbs stormed off the room before Leon had a chance to finish.


	4. Got Your Six

**2013**

Tony was kneeling down, taking the last crime scene photo he'd need. The pain in the back of his head came out of nowhere, pushing his head forward so much he almost lost his balance. That was the strongest, most sudden head slap Tony had ever received, he was sure of it.

"You knocked her up?!" the anger in Gibbs' voice was so strong it gave Tony the chills.

"She told you about that?" he said while standing up, genuinely surprised. They had agreed they'd tell the team together.

"Not the point, DiNozzo. What the hell were you thinking?" His boss' face showed disappointment, shock and rage, a whole ton of rage. Gibbs had never looked so pissed.

"What, you think I planned this?" he sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

"No, but you knew it was a possibility, and you still slept with her!"

"It wasn't like that, Boss. Ziva and I, we…"

"How long have you two been sneaking around?" Gibbs interrupted him, going straight to the point as always.

"Almost two months."

Gibbs smiled, but he didn't actually seem to find any of that funny. "And you're gonna have a baby… You've let me down, DiNozzo."

"Boss, I'm…"

"You should've told me the day it started." That was probably the only conversation they'd ever had in which Gibbs did all the talking. "You think I don't notice things? The two of you… I knew it was going to happen. I've known it for years. I advised against it because of situations like the one we're living right now. What I didn't count on was you keeping it a secret. You're in my team. What goes on between you and Ziva affects all of us. You should've told me."

"I wanted to, but…" he struggled to find the right words. "I wasn't sure of what to say. We don't even know what this is. She's barely been speaking to me in the last few weeks…"

"Well, you two better figure it out, then. There's no way back now. This is happening, this baby is going to be here soon, and I won't tolerate couple's bickering in my team. You started a big mess. I hope being with each other makes it worth it."

"It does, Boss." He said without hesitating. Even with the pregnancy and the fighting, he didn't regret a thing.

**2016**

After finishing the crime scene photos and sketches, Tony took note of every single detail in that corner of the subway station. His teammates had gone out to notify the next of kin, but he asked to stay behind and make sure he didn't miss anything. Not that he wasn't usually thorough, but, this time, he really wanted to be the one to solve the case McGee's little advice wouldn't get out of his head. He hadn't been doing his best work lately, and he wanted to make up for it. Vance was probably thinking of assigning another agent to the team, and Tony needed to prove that it wasn't necessary. Theirs was a private party, and newcomers weren't appreciated.

The victim's body rested against the cold, dark cement wall in the back of the subway station, hidden behind a few trash cans. Beside him, Ducky and Jimmy kneeled down, trying not to touch the decomposing garbage while doing their work.

"He was quite a handsome fella. Reminds me of this one young man I met a few decades ago in Germany…" started the M.E., always with another story to tell. Petty Officer Drew Gilbert truly had been good looking. Strong features, square jaw, deep blue eyes, clean face, his dark hair in a typical jarhead haircut. Something about him simply gave off the vibe of a wild, fearless beast. Tony smiled, realizing the P.O. looked exactly like he imagined a certain Leroy Jethro Gibbs did when he was younger.

Seemed like a slam-dunk case. According to Ducky's preliminary findings, C.O.D was the severing of the carotid artery, probably done by the bloody pocket knife full of prints left right beside the body. A quick AFIS search would soon give them the killer's name. The M.E. also said that the wounds were imprecise, probably done by an amateur. To Tony, everything was pointing to a crime of passion done by somebody with no priors.

Tony had worked in a few cases like that one, and, even though discovering the identity of the killer was easy, not everything was simple. Even the most inexperienced people in the world know to run when a murder can be traced back to them. He didn't need a doctor's degree to tell that their killer probably had a pretty good head start, the decomposing state of the body spoke for itself.

"What are you still doing here, Anthony?" asked Ducky a few minutes later. "I think you've probably got everything you can out of this crime scene."

"Just trying to be thorough, Ducky. I'm hoping to impress the bosses."

**. . .**

"What did you say your name was, again?" asked the freakishly tall security guard. She could tell by his accent that he wasn't Brazilian. His pronounce sounded more Italian than Portuguese.

"Demidova. Raíssa Demidova." The Russian accent was easy to do, but it still annoyed her. She was tired of all the names and the nationalities and the accents. She had to come up with _another _persona for that mission. Camille Durand was far too good of an alias for her to use it too much. Monique had called in some favors with some very powerful people and managed to create an almost perfect fake identity. If anybody ever tried to research her, they'd find all kinds of traces of Camille's life. Birth certificate, yearbook pictures, school and college records, even the other members Durand family had great detail. Ziva couldn't risk burning it at an assignment. As soon as she was done, Camille Durand would come back to life.

"How is that spelled?"

"Does it really matter?"

"If it didn't, I wouldn't be asking."

"Well, someone is a little moody today." She said with a playful smile, taking one step closer to him. "R-a-í-s-s-a D-e-m-i-d-o-v-a."

"Right… Wait here a second, I'll go check with Mr. Harper." He didn't wait for her response, disappearing behind the door that he was supposed to guard. Getting a meeting with Mr. Andrew Harper had been extremely easy. All she had to do was find out what high end escort service he used and gently convince them to do her a favor. Of course, the "convincing" was very expensive, but the cost was worth it. She'd pay a billion dollars if it could get her family back.

"You can come in." he opened the door for her, taking advantage of his position to grab her ass as she walked past him. She twisted his arm so quickly she could see tears forming in his eyes.

"I'm your boss'. Not yours." She said with the exact same teasing smile in her lips. "If you want to play, you will need to pay."

She let go of his, turned her back to him and walked away in incredibly stable steps considering the height of the heels she was wearing. She hated playing the hooker, but, for some reason, that was the most successful part with the criminals she had to work with.

Andrew Harper sat in a large, fluffy red chair across the room, anxiously waiting for her to come in. He had changed quite a bit in the 13 years that had passed since the last time they met. He was barely 16 then, a skinny, spoiled teenager with an acne problem and a bad haircut. The Andrew Harper sitting in his scarlet throne was a grown man, with a strong jaw, blonde hair cut short, his eyes made out of ice and onyx.

It took him all of five seconds to recognize her. She had aged 13 years, dyed her hair and put on blue contact lenses, but he saw right through it. Harper jumped out of his chair, anger coloring his face, reaching for the closest weapon he could find.

"You." he said, his shocked eyes stuck on her as if she was a ghost. "All this time and money spent looking for you and you show up right at my doorstep, Ziva David."

**. . .**

"Well, finally someone decided to honor us with his presence. What took you so long, DiNozzo?" Tony barely had time to sit in his desk before Gibbs showed up, irritated.

"Sorry, Boss. I was finishing up at the crime scene. Just trying to do a good job." He shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"Good. Did you find anything?"

"The question is: is there anything I didn't find?"

"You tell me."

Tony opened up his notepad and started reading. "Finger prints, shoe prints, hair samples, even the murder weapon. Our killer is either a real amateur or really wants to get caught."

"Did you give any of that to Abby?" asked the Boss, always wanting more.

He smiled. "Well, of course. I stopped by the lab when I got here. We got an ID. Our sloppy assassin's name is Clara Montez, 23 years old, lives in Arlington. I contacted Gilbert's brother, he said she was the Petty Officer's girlfriend. Things weren't going very well between them, Drew was about to tell her that he cheated on her overseas."

Gibbs did his best not to look impressed. There was no space for compliments in that bullpen. "Great. Let's bring her in."

"I think that might be a problem, Boss. I called her apartment. Angela Baker, her roommate, picked up. Says she hasn't seen Clara in three days, which, according to her, is very unusual. She even filed a missing person's report. I think Montez is on the run."

"And did you figure out a way to find her?" Nothing was ever enough with Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Tony didn't mind, he was used to it.

"I have an idea. I'll have to talk to McGee to see if it pins out."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Tony gave him a quick smiled and started walking towards the elevator. McGee would probably be at the lab, helping Abby with some computer mystery related to another team's case she had been trying to crack all day.

"Hey, DiNozzo!" Gibbs called him when he pressed the button. He turned his head to face the Boss. "Nice work. Keep it up."

His reaction was a facial expression of half shock, half amusement. Something was up, he knew it. Still, Tony enjoyed the praise.

"And, if you need anything… know that we got your six, ok?"

"Huh…ok. Thanks, Boss."

The elevator door opened and Tony rushed inside, confused. He had no idea of what happened, but he was sure it was probably very, very bad.


	5. Ghosts

_So this one took a lot longer than expected. I had a very busy December, but now I'm back to posting at least once a week. Thanks to everybody for the reviews/follows/favorites/stuff. I'm enjoying this fic, I hope you guys are as well. Byeee. - heyhihellohard_

**2003**

"Are ready for this?"

"Yes. " She didn't even hesitate. The long two decades of her existence were spent training for that moment. She was absolutely, definitely ready.

"Good. Describe your target to me, then. " Said her handler, a tall, well-built man with strong arms whose only facial expression was a mix of seriousness with anger.

"White. 6' 1". Brown hair, turning gray near the temples. Scar across the chin. Big nose, has been broken a few times. Blue eyes. Is that enough?"

"Yes. I am going to wait for you outside, in the getaway car. This mission is your responsibility, I will not go in to help you unless it is absolutely necessary. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." She was tired of all that talking. She wanted action.

"So go make your father proud." He gestured to the building and she turned her back to him, walking towards the entrance.

"Boa noite." the doorman greeted her as soon as she crossed the door. He was an old man, late sixties or early seventies, but seemed strong for his age. His white skin didn't match his dark, hollow eyes surrounded by dark circles. The nightshift had its costs.

"Hello. I am here to visit Mr. Harper. " She said, stepping closer to the counter that separated them. She held her face in her hands, a smile in her lips, both her elbows on the wooden surface, using her finger to twirl one of her curls.

The man furrowed his brow. "No English."

She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. Portuguese was her newest language, she was still a bit shaky on its details. "Eu…Visitar…Senhor Harper"

"Ok." He reached for the phone to let Harper know she was there, but she stopped him.

"Eu…fazer…surpresa." She managed to get out, realizing maybe some extra practice would have been helpful. She had picked the cover story with her handler beforehand. They decided that she'd pretend to be making a surprise for the target's birthday. Using some charm and playing the sweet young girl, it should be enough for the doorman to let her pass.

"Surpresa?" he asked, skeptical.

Ziva did her best to seem young and innocent. Though technically she was young, she had too little innocence to actually look like a normal 20 year old girl. "Sim. Aniversário."

"Oh. Ok. " He smiled, happy to help. For a second, she hesitated, knowing that the gentle old man would most certainly be fired for trusting her. He'd spend the little bit of life he had left going back to that moment, remembering her face and regretting having let her in so easily, thinking that, if he had been a better doorman, a life would've been saved. Ziva didn't want that for the poor soul, he seemed like a perfectly nice person, he didn't deserve it. Still, there was a job to be done. The safety of Israel was more important than some brazilian doorman.

She rushed into the elevator without saying thank you, not wanting to face him again. He was just collateral damage, every war had collateral damage. Once she got inside and pressed the button, her focus went back to the task at hand. Utilizing her very useful photographic memory, she reviewed the blue prints of the target's apartment in her head. It should be easy enough. He was home alone, she'd probably not even have to come in. All she had to do is knock, and he'd open the door for her.

Ziva David had taken a life before. She'd spent two years in the Israeli Army, more than long enough for anybody to get acquainted with the act of killing. Many of her colleagues in Mossad training didn't make it to the final cut because they couldn't deal with the remorse. Ziva didn't really mind it at all. The people she had to kill were bad people, threats to her country's safety. They were responsible for Tali's passing. . . Ziva wanted them dead. Still, deep down, she was nervous. Ziva had killed before, but she had never assassinated anyone. This time, she was on a mission, her very first mission as a Mossad operative, and she was planning on honoring the family name.

She got out of the elevator quickly, taking less than 5 second to recognize the target's apartment door and ring its doorbell.

"Oi." said the boy who opened, a skinny, overly pale teenager with an honest smile. "Quem é você?"

She knew who he was, of course she did. His name was constantly mentioned in her research. But he wasn't supposed to be there, her partner had observed the apartment for hours and didn't mention anything about the boy. _This is the ultimate test, _she realized. In order to pass, Ziva would have to carry on with her mission. Her orders said specifically that only Walter should be taken down, so she had a good reason not to harm the boy. Physically, of course. Unfortunately, she'd have to slit his father's throat in front of him. _Every war has collateral damage, _she told herself once again, her eyes stuck in the face of the poor kid whose innocence she was about to steal away. For some reason, the more she repeated those words in her mind, the less she believed them. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, thinking of Tali and how the enemies of Israel didn't really care about her innocence when they killed her.

"Hello." She replied in English. The Harper family moved to Brazil to explore some business deal when Andrew was three years old. He spoke perfect portuguese, but, according to her research, he still knew his way around his original language. "My name is Rivka, I am a friend of your father's. Is he home?"

"Yeah, he is. Wait a sec, I'll tell him that you're here." He turned his back to her and disappeared behind one of the three doors in the wall across from where she was standing. The Harper residence's living room wasn't as large as its blueprint made it look like it was, but it was very well decorated and modern, utilizing of weird shapes and colors that Ziva had only seen before in an American furniture catalogue she had flickered through in the plane. One look at the room was enough to tell that a lot of money was put into it. She didn't know what Walter Harper had done to get his name in Mossad's kill list, that was not the kind of information that was given to the operatives, but she imagined it had something to do with the source of that money.

She exhaled slowly, trying to think. Walter Harper was the kind of man that knew how to recognize a Mossad operative. One quick look at her and he'd know she was a threat. She had to take him by surprise, and there was only one way to do so. Hopefully, the boy wouldn't be close enough to see it.

She crossed the room and positioned herself beside the door, pocket knife in hand, waiting for her target to come out. At the first sign of movement, she used her left arm to grab the man and her right hand to place the knife in his throat. She should've killed him in that moment, but Ziva had to give him a quick look to make sure she hadn't grabbed the son instead of the father. The man she was holding was definitely Walter Harper, but the second she wasted to confirm his identity was too long. Attracted by his father's surprised scream, the teenage boy stood in the doorway, paralyzed, his eyes filled with terror.

"Get out of here, Andy!" shouted Walter, trying to keep his son from the horrible scene that he knew was about to go down. Honorable, she thought to herself. Instead of trying – and failing – to save himself, Walter Harper's last act was to try to protect his son. The boy, however, didn't move an inch, staring at Ziva in shock. She hesitated, giving him time to run away, but he didn't take the chance. Left with no choice, she perforated Walter's neck with the edge of the knife and slit his throat, letting go of his body and running to the door as soon as she was done. Not looking back, she made her way to the staircase beside the elevator and walked down it three steps at a time.

Once she had left the building and reached safety inside her handler's car, Ziva David realized that the look the teenager gave her the second he realized she had killed his father would haunt her for the rest of her life. The terror turned into rage, a kind of rage she had felt herself the day her sister died. That boy would never be the same again, he'd never rest until she and everything related to her was extinguished. She had ruined him. _Andrew, _a voice whispered in her head. For some reason, it sounded a lot like Tali. _His name is Andrew._

**2016**

"How did you find out my name?" she asked, trying to keep him distracted so he wouldn't call for his guard. She could probably take them both, but it was better not to take those kinds of risks.

"Oh, I found out a lot about you. In fact, I've been keeping tabs on you for a very long while." He sat back in his fluffy chair, calming down. Clearly, he had prepared himself for the moment he'd have to face her again, he just didn't expect it to be so sudden. "Rivka. I did some digging, talked to some very resourceful people, and based on your description and your fake name, they managed to identify the woman who murdered my father as Ziva David, daughter of Rivka, who inspired your alias, and Eli David, ex-director of Mossad. My condolences, by the way, I heard about the incident in early 2013. Losing your dad sucks, I know what that's like."

The way he spoke those words made her shiver. The mere mention of her father's name was enough to make her uncomfortable, but Andrew Harper was making it really hard for her to keep calm. She tried to repress an expression of anger, but failed.

"Touchy subject, huh? Yeah, I get that as well. Seeing your father die… it changes you. Let's speak of happier things, shall we? In February 2014 you gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Congratulations! Lovely name choice. Wait… do you even know his name? From what I've heard, you didn't have a chance to stick around to help picking the baby's name. I gotta say, even though the blonde hair doesn't suit you, you look incredibly nice for someone who's been lying in an unmarked grave for two years. "

His speech felt planned, rehearsed. She wondered how many times he'd run it through his head. Probably millions. He said it all with a twisted smile on his lips, happy to be finally facing the ghost from his past. She wasn't sure if it was his obsession with her that made him a psychopath or if the insanity had always been inside him and she had only triggered it. Either way, she knew she was somewhat responsible for his actions. Andrew Harper was a criminal, a successful arms and drug dealer. The ineffective Brazilian police had no clue of who he was, but she had managed to trace back to him countless murders and other serious charges. Harper was the living proof of the dangers of collateral damage. Even though he and his words disturbed her, she kept quiet, letting him speak first. Crazy people were often unpredictable, she had to be as cautious as possible.

"My sources guaranteed me you were dead, and they tend to be pretty accurate. So… to what do I owe this post-mortem visit?"

It was time to speak. "Does the name Kyle Duncan ring a bell to you?"

He chuckled. "Well, of course. I've already shown you how well informed I am. Do you really think I wouldn't know the name of your apparently unsuccessful killer?"

She had come across all kinds of people inside the NCIS interrogation room. Her short conversation with Harper was enough for her to classify him and pick her strategy.

"Of course not. You are the type of man who knows everything there is to know. In fact, you know a lot more about him than his name. You have met him. You told him all of your very valuable information about me so he could do a good job and kill me." She kept her tone calm and flattering, as if she was impressed with Harper's knowledge and resources. He bought the act, pleased with her attitude, but his twisted smile turned into a confused facial expression.

"No, I'm afraid I didn't. I wouldn't simply send somebody to kill you, Ziva. You're way too special for that. I wanted to have you kidnapped and brought to me, so I could do the honors myself, but I realized that is not in my best interest. You're a fed now. Killing a federal agent is too risky. As much as I'd like to see you dead, I enjoy my comfortable mansion very much, I'd hate to trade it for a prison cell. Besides, a murder charge would attract other investigations. I've built myself an empire, I can't just throw it away. I've been trying to figure out a way to get rid of you without involving the feds, but you died before I could come up with anything."

She couldn't hide her disappointment. Harper was the kind that craves attention and praise. If he had been responsible for Kyle Duncan, he would've confessed it proudly, just like he confessed he wanted to kill her. Once again, the research, the planning, the aliases, all the effort that she had to put in to get to her suspect was wasted. Andrew Harper was a sociopath, but not the sociopath she was looking for.

He noticed her sadness. "What, did I let you down?"

"Yes, Harper, you did. Our little meeting is over."

He smiled again, pointing his handgun at her. "What, do you think I am just going to let you leave?"

"No...no, I do not." In a quick movement, she pulled her own gun from the inner pocket of her furry coat and shot him in the head before he had the time to react. "I am sorry, Andrew. I truly am."

The body guard came in, attracted by the sound of gunfire. She rushed passed him and ran away, the dark night making it easy for her to disappear within the shadows. After the Harper fiasco in 2003, Ziva had made a habit of leaving no living witnesses, but the Italian body guard was of more use to her alive. With the description of a blue eyed Russian woman with blonde hair named Raíssa, the terrible Brazilian police department would never be able to trace the murder back to her.

**. . .**

Clara Montez was arrested in a small town in Maryland, her formerly blonde hair dyed black and cut short, carrying a purse that contained a burner phone, 500 dollars in cash, a fake passport and a plane ticket to Australia.

"Good job, DiNozzo." Said Gibbs after cuffing Montez. "How did you figure it out?"

Knowing that Clara was about to leave the country, Tony left in such a rush he didn't have time to explain to Gibbs how he got the killer's location.

"I started thinking of what would I do if I was in big trouble and realized I would call someone I trust. First I thought of the brother, but then I remembered that the roommate, Angela Baker, didn't seem very surprised to hear her best friend was a murderer. I got McGee to trace her phone and financial records and he discovered that Ms. Baker had been making some very unusual phone calls and had recently acquired a ticket for the next flight to Australia. Once I carefully explained to her the consequences of aiding and abetting, she gave up Montez's hideout." Tony answered, trying not to sound as proud of himself as he really was.

It was only after he explained his line of thinking out loud that the idea hit him.

"You ok, DiNozzo?" Gibbs noticed something had changed. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

He was too busy to say anything, trying to think straight. It was just a hunch, a long shot at best, but somehow he _knew_ he was right. He had to be.

"Monique Lisson." Was all he said before turning his back to Gibbs and rushing to his car. He heard his boss asking what the hell was he doing, but there'd be time for explaining later. All he could think about was getting to the NCIS headquarters as soon as possible.


	6. Lost and Found

_I say "a week" and update 2 months later. Silly me. Funny story, actually. I fried my computer, had to buy myself another one. Anyway, I'm back now. Hopefully posting regularly. Or not. Better not make promises I can't keep this time. - heyhihellohard_

**2013**

"You're driving the guy crazy." Was the first thing he said after 30 minutes of silence. The second she got in the car she realized he knew. He had gotten rid of Tony and McGee, sent them to chase after some improbable lead, so they'd ride back to the Navy Yard by themselves. Ziva had imagined that scene a thousand times in her head, but those particular words hadn't crossed her mind even once.

"What?"

Gibbs kept his eyes at the road in front of him, avoiding her gaze. "DiNozzo. He has no idea of what do to with you. You're confused, he says. Well, he seemed very confused to me too. And you two better sort this out quickly, I need a team of capable agents, not a soap opera. The secret affair ends up in pregnancy... What's next? Is the baby actually McGee's?"

"Very funny." She said, even though she didn't find any of that funny. Ziva swallowed hard, trying to keep a steady, calm voice. "How did you find out?"

"You know, the little things. You've been very tired lately. And avoiding alcohol. And furtively looking at your belly when you think no one is watching. I lived with a pregnant woman for 9 months, I know what they're like. Still, I wasn't completely sure until I tricked DiNozzo into thinking you told me. His reaction confirmed my theory."

She tried to think of something to say, but came up empty.

"What, don't look so surprised. You knew you couldn't hide it forever. When were you planning on telling me, huh? When you started showing? After the baby was born? In the kid's 18th birthday?"

She drew a deep, long breath before responding. "What do you want from me, Gibbs? An apology? I will not apologize for my actions. Tony and I are adults, and what happens on our private life is private."

He finally looked at her, his eyes showing more disappointment than anger. "I don't expect you to apologize for that. I knew that this would happen eventually, I've always known. I'm paid to notice things, and I noticed the dynamic between you two long before you did. But secrets aren't good for a team, Ziva. I thought you'd have de decency to tell me. And I sure as hell didn't think he'd knock you up in the first 5 seconds."

She hesitated, thinking about Rule 6. Never say you're sorry. _Well, _she thought to herself, _I already broke Rule 12 anyway. _"Gibbs, I'm…I'm sorry. He wanted to tell you guys, but I thought it would be best if we kept it a secret for a while…It is all just very... what is the expression for that? Messed up."

"Well, then you got one hell of a mess to clean up. Cut DiNozzo some slack. It might not seem like that to you right now, cause he isn't the one with another human being in his insides, but this is a major change in his life, too. He is confused, too. But he doesn't want you to see that, he wants to convince you that everything is fine. He is probably freaking out right now, but he is keeping it together for you. Or would you prefer if he was running around in circles, telling you that you're both screwed?"

She was left speechless again. As usual, Gibbs was right. She wasn't really mad at Tony, she was simply taking it out on him. The real source of her stress was the universe, deciding to provide her with a child in the worst possible moment.

"So…" he switched to a lighter tone, as if he was about to ask her what she had for breakfast. "When is the baby due?"

Ziva tried her best to hide the small smile that inevitably formed in her lips, but he saw it anyway. "June."

**2016**

"What the hell was that all about?" asked Gibbs, storming into the squad room.

Tony didn't turn his head to answer, too busy looking at McGee's monitor over his shoulder. "Sorry, Boss. I'm running a hunch. It's unlikely it'll pan out, but my gut's telling me it'll work."

"And what case is this related to?"

He hesitated for a second."Ziva's." Tony was afraid his boss wouldn't let him check out the lead and tell him to let go and move on. Au contraire, he thought to himself. Gibbs seemed very interested. "What's the idea?"

"Clara Montez called her roommate when she realized she had to run. What if Ziva did the same?"

Gibbs furrowed his brow. "Wouldn't her roommate be you, DiNozzo?"

"Not exactly. I was thinking: Ziva's in trouble. For some reason, she feels like she can't talk to any of us… Who does she call? And then a name popped into my mind. Monique Lisson." He turned to his partner, who was still furiously typing into his keyboard. "How long's this gonna take, McGeek?"

"Tracking a paranoid ex-Interpol agent? A while. She knows how to stay in the dark. But there's no need to worry, Tony. I'll find her."

**. . .**

"Did anybody see you?" said the tiny burner phone she had purchased when she got to Brazil. Always the multi-tasker, she put the phone on speaker so she could talk while cleaning her weapon.

"No." She said to the empty motel room. "Only the body guard, but he did not get a good look at my face."

"Good." She could almost believe Monique was standing right behind here, but her slightly muffled voice gave away the fact that she was actually thousands of miles away. "I have not arranged your next trip yet. You are going to have to stay in Brazil for a while, Camille."

Monique never called her Ziva. According to her, the less you hear your old name, the less you miss it. Sadly, it wasn't working.

"Do you have any news for me, Monique?"

"We've talked about this, my friend." Ziva could hear her sighing through the phone. "You have to let go of them to keep them safe."

"What is the point of keeping them safe when I don't even know if they're alive?"

"They are fine. Just like they were the last time you asked. The rumor we spread seems to be working, no one has come after them. Happy?"

She laughed sarcastically. "I would be happy if I could see them, be with them. So no, I am definitely not happy. But knowing that they are alright makes me less miserable."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause before Monique replied. "I cannot possibly imagine what you are going through, but I know you are doing what you have to do. If anything important happens to them, I'll tell you. But, right now, they are fine and you better focus on the task at hand if you want them to stay that way."

Ziva put the gun back in one of the wooden table's old drawers and threw herself on the cheap mattress. After two years, she was no longer bothered by the scent of sweat and cigarettes that clung to every single bed she'd slept in.

"I know." She breathed out slowly. "I'm just… tired."

**. . .**

It was a little over 9 P.M. when Tony walked into the daycare center, his hand clutching his phone, still waiting for McGee's call.

"Daddy!" shouted the boy as soon as he spotted his father, running to him as fast as his clumsy toddler legs allowed him to.

Tony effortlessly lifted him up in the air and laid a kiss on his forehead. "Hey there, buddy! Having fun?"

"Yeah!" answered Dave enthusiastically. "Home?"

"No. Dad's gonna have to work late tonight, I'm sorry."

The boy frowned at his father, annoyed. All-nighters weren't uncommon, Dave was used to them, but he still didn't like them.

"Hey… maybe Aunt Abby will swing by and pay you a visit, would you like that?"

He grinned. "Bert?"

"I'll ask her to bring Bert, the hippo. Perhaps even a chocolate bar."

The word chocolate was enough to cheer the boy up and get him to forgive Tony "Ok."

"Good. Cause Daddy is gonna be busy finding your mom."

"Mom?" He pointed at the phone, confused.

"Yeah, that's right."


	7. Hello, Goodbye

_Since it took me two months to update last time, this time I decided to do it in two days, but there's no way I can keep up with this pace. For now on, I'm gonna try posting a new chapter every monday and friday, key word being "try". Reviews definitely help, though. Just saying. Oh, and in case you're wondering, the chapter title is definitely a Beatles reference. Geez I'm getting way too chatty on this little italic thingys, I better shut up and let you read your chapter in peace. - heyhihellohard_

**2013**

They both stared at the ceiling, lying on his bed in silence. It was the first time she'd come over since the night she told him about the pregnancy, three weeks before. She didn't even call ahead to let him know, she just showed up, knocked on the door and jumped into bed without saying a word.

"So…" he started.

"So."

She was not mad at him anymore, it was clear in her tone. Still, he imagined she didn't feel like talking about the fight either.

"What are we going to name him? Or her. I don't really have any preferences." He said nervously, trying desperately to start a conversation.

"It is a little… early to start picking names, is it not?"

"Better too early than too late. Let's start with the basics. Do you want the baby to have an Israeli name?"

He felt her shaking her head against the mattress. "No. A middle name, maybe. You have no idea how irritating it is to have people constantly mispronouncing your name."

"Ok, then." He grinned, still looking up. "You want a common name. Any one in particular?"

"I… don't know. You?"

"If it's a boy… James. James Bond. Maybe Robert, like DeNiro. Scarlett, for a girl. Or Caitlin, like Caitlin Turner, Caitlin Upton, Caitlin Moran…"

"Caitlin Todd." She guessed where he was getting at instantly.

For a second, he was surprised she remembered the full name. She really did have a photographic name. "Yeah, like Caitlin Todd. Only if you agree with it, of course."

"Caitlin…" he could hear the smile in her voice. "I like it."

"Caitlin Talia DiNozzo, since you said middle names are allowed."

"Caitlin Talia DiNozzo." She repeated, taking long pauses between every word, as if trying to savor the names. Tony was glad she approved. He had come up with the idea a few days before, but he wasn't sure if she'd be ok with naming her child after his dead partner. "Sounds nice. But it could be a boy, you know."

"If it is, we'll figure out a name later." He turned to her, amazed with how beautiful she looked. The pregnancy glow suited her. "Right now, all I can think about is getting that baby a twin."

Ziva laughed. "It does not work that way, Tony."

He shrugged. "Doesn't mean we can't try."

**2016**

"So, what do you have for me, McGee?" he asked impatiently.

"What don't I have for you, Tony?" His partner smiled with a confidence he only had when facing a computer. "I got Monique's current address in France from an Interpol database, then used cell towers to see which phones are constantly inside her house, and found out that she owns six burner phones. I accessed their records. One of them is used to make calls to a foreign country once every three days. The country changes within a few months, sometimes weeks. I strongly believe that's the one she's using to communicate with Ziva."

The anxiety was so great Tony had to work hard to keep his body from shaking. "Did you trace the last call?"

McGee's grin grew bigger. "Of course I did. The last call was made earlier today. Brazil, Tony. Ziva is in a cheap hotel in São Paulo, Brazil."

For a second, he was so happy he could barely contain himself. Then he started thinking. Ziva was in Brazil, clearly well enough to maintain contact with Monique. Yet, he hadn't heard from her in two years. She'd been on the run, moving from one country to another, without ever sending a note or a text or even saying goodbye. There weren't many possible explanations for her behavior, and he didn't like any of them. She had a child, for god's sake. She barely got to see him, she didn't even know his name. How could she turn her back on their son? What could possibly make her leave Dave behind?

He thought of the last time he'd seen her, and the memory stung him like an angry bee. Perhaps if he hadn't said what he said… No. He avoided that kind of thinking, it didn't do him any good. Missing her was bad enough, he couldn't afford to start blaming himself. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder if it was him that drove her away. Tony never truly believed it was his fault, he knew her better than he knew himself, his Ziva would never leave willingly. He'd always assumed she had been taken, killed or wounded, that something was keeping her from communicating. Clearly that wasn't the case, she'd had no trouble keeping in touch with her former BFF. For two years, he'd do anything for her location, but now he wasn't so sure. She'd had his location all this time and did nothing. If anything, that new piece of information proved that she wasn't ripped away from him and Dave like he'd always thought. She left.

**. . .**

"You've been made." Monique sounded angrier than ever. "Merde! You have to get out of Brazil as soon as possible."

Ziva felt as if the blood on her veins had suddenly frozen. "What? How?"

"Je ne savais pas que ton copains sont si insistent!" She mixed English and French, talking as fast as she could, her voice nervous and urgent. " An ex-college of mine just let me know someone hacked into the Interpol database and accessed my files. They tracked me down, looked into my phone records… Your friends have your location, Camille. You need to leave!"

She tried to seem less worried than she really was, hoping that her tone would help calming Monique down. "Are you sure it was them?"

"Yes, I am sure. How many people in the world have the resources to hack into Interpol and know about our connection? Not many, Camille. This was NCIS."

She fought off a small grin. That stunt had McGee written all over it. "Ok, I have to go. But go where? Is any of the targets ready for takedown?"

Monique hesitated. "Yes, there is an opening right now. But I was hoping we would have more time to discuss this, I am not even certain that you should pursue it!"

"What is going on, Monique? What kind of opening?"

"Javier Rivera has left his country to seek medical help for his son's disease."

"He has left Panama?! Monique, this is an incredible opportunity! He never leaves his comfort zone, knowing he is far too protected in his fortress for his enemies to reach him. If I don't get to him now, I may never get another chance." She stopped once she realized the reason behind Monique's hesitation. "Medical help. Damn it. He is in the US, is he not?"

"New York City, to be exact. Do you see the issue now?"

"I cannot go back to the US, it is too soon. My picture is in a Missing Persons Report, if the wrong person sees me the last two years will go to waste."

"I understand, Camille. But there is another thing you must know. I have information that suggest he is the one we are looking for."

Ziva's heart stopped. "What kind of information?"

"I still have not been able to confirm where the money used to pay off Miller came from, but my contact is confident it originated from a Panamanian account. Rivera is the only person in the list that resides in Panama."

She had to sit down to take it all in. If Monique was right and Rivera really was the man she'd been searching for, her quest would be over. She would be able to get back to her old life, see Tony again, and meet her child. But, on the other hand, Tony was already on his way to her. He had her location. Two years had passed since she'd been gone and he still hadn't given up. The thought of him stepping into that very motel room and realizing she was gone broke her heart. A part of her, her selfish side, wanted to sit tight and wait for him. But, as always, Ziva was a rational personal and knew it was stupid to even think of that. What was the point of being reunited with her friends and family if the reunion itself would probably get them all killed?

"So… what are you going to do, Zi- Camille? Should I arrange your trip to New York or do you want to go somewhere else? I'd offer for you to come to France and plan your next move with me but NCIS must be watching me carefully. Russia, maybe. Six of the remaining names on the list are Russian, I could study them while you settle in and get you a target in a month."

"No. I am not going to back out. I do not care if it is risky, once Rivera sets his foot in Panama he will be lost for good. I need to get to him while I can. Monique, I trust you can make up a solid cover story for Camille Durand's presence in the US. I am going to New York."

**. . .**

"Brazil?" Gibbs repeated slowly. He was glad to know where she was, to know that she was safe. Although he'd never admit it, he had developed a spot for Ziva almost as soft as Abby's. Still, there were other things in his mind. What on earth was Ziva doing circling around the world for two years? The lack of explanations bothered him, and he could see it bothered Tony even more.

"It's not 100% confirmed. Hell, Monique Lisson might just have a friend who travels a lot, but McGee and I are confident it's her."

"Vance is not going to sanction an op in Brazil because some former Interpol agent makes a lot of international calls, you know that, right?"

Tony shook his head. "Yeah. But he can't stop me from going on my own."

"This is Somalia all over again. I saved both your asses that day. There is no way you're going alone, I'm coming with you."

He opened up a sour smile. "Except that, when she was in Somalia, she was being forcefully kept in some shack in the middle of the desert. Now she's chilling in a South American hotel texting her girlfriends."

Gibbs frowned. "How come you're making it sound like you prefer the first option?"

The guilt in Tony's eyes was visible as he realized part of him was selfish enough to actually think like that. "Oh, no, I-I don't… I want her to be ok. More than anything, I do."

Gibbs stared at him, but said nothing, giving Tony space to continue.

"It's just… She is ok. She's been ok all along. So why didn't she call? Why did she even leave in the first place? Was it me, was I not enough for her? Or was it too much? I don't-" The strong slap to the back of his head shut him up.

With his hand still pounding, Gibbs took a deep breath. He hated long, inspirational speeches, but Tony was in need of a reality check. "Shut up. Everyone has a selfish side, I get it. It's okay to have a few selfish thoughts, as long as you don't let them take over. Ziva is fine. That's great. Ziva's been fine a_nd still _didn't make any contact with you. That's strange, you're confused, makes sense. But if you really think she'd just leave you and Dave behind, you're losing track of who she is. Here's the deal, DiNozzo: I was the last person to see Ziva before she disappeared. And she was clutching that little bundle as if it was world's biggest treasure. If anything got her to let go of her baby…" He didn't finish the sentence.

Tony scratched his head. In all the 15 years they'd known each other, Gibbs had never seem him look so tired. "You're right, Boss. You always are. There's got to be an explanation, and I'm going to get it. Excuse me, I gotta go home pack. I am going to São Paulo."


	8. Element of Surprise

_I'd like to remind you guys that Unfinished Sentences was written before Shabbat Shalom aired, and my blissfully ignorant past-self stated in that chapter that Vance has no idea of what it's like to lose the mother of one's kids. Ironic, huh? As good as it would've been to explore Tony and Vance's relationship if they shared that experience, I'll have to stick with what has been said before. So, long story short: Jackie Vance is still alive in this fic. Eli David is dead, though._

**2013**

They'd decided it was better to break the news to the rest of NCIS one by one. Due to protocol issues, they had to start with Vance.

"Tony, Ziva, come in." He held the door open with one hand gestured inside with the other. "I understand you'd like to report something."

"Yeah…" It wasn't really a question, but Tony answered anyway. He felt like a teenager about to tell his father he crashed the family car.

Vance sat behind his desk and offered them the two chairs across from it. They sat down slowly, trying to stall as much as possible. The truth ought to come out eventually, but the entire situation made them both extremely uncomfortable.

"Look, I know what you're about to say." He announced with certainty.

"Do you?" he asked, confused. Beside him, Ziva sat quietly, holding onto his hand, too embarrassed to even speak.

"I do. I've had my eye on you two for a while, actually. After you babysat for me a few months ago, Kayla wouldn't shut up about what a great couple you'd make. To be honest, I think I agree with her. As long as it doesn't affect your work, you two can stay on the same team."

"Sir, I don't think you understand the whole situation…" Tony started.

"I do, DiNozzo. I was young and in love once, you know?"

"Of course you were, that's not what I was…It's just that…"

"What? Spit it out, DiNozzo!"

"Ziva is…we are…" He imagined there was no way the conversation would turn out well, but it was going much worse than he thought possible.

"I'm pregnant!" she shouted, turning both men's attention to her. "Tony and I are going to have child. Yes, it is a rather strange situation, but I am tired of all this circling around the word! Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant."

The director sat back in his chair, taking it in. Perhaps it was just Tony's mind making up things, but he could swear he saw a flicker of fear in Vance's eyes after Ziva's outburst. "Oh. Oh. Ok. We'll figure out how to deal with that." He was silent for a long time, lost in his own thoughts, then added. "Congratulations."

**2016**

"You want me to allow my best team to go to South America based on a lead that is circumstantial at best?" The director of NCIS asked, incredulous.

"No. I want you to allow me to take a leave of absence. I've put up with a lot of extra hours in this job, I must have an entire month of vacation days. I want to use them now, go to Rio, dance some samba, drink caipirinhas, chill on topless beaches, maybe enjoy the Carnaval…"

The look Vance gave him made it clear that he wasn't buying that story. "Carnaval only starts three months from now. Besides, what an amazing coincidence, Gibbs and McGee want to take leaves to go to Brazil too."

"It's a group trip, sir. I can't think for better company to explore Rio than my geeky partner and my scary, stone cold boss." His sarcasm showed a confidence he didn't really feel.

"You don't need to bullshit me, DiNozzo. You three are going to look for Ziva, and I will do the best I can to support you."

Tony furrowed his brow. "You will?"

"Of course. I can't do anything officially but… Ziva is one of ours. I'll do everything in my power to bring her back."

"Uh… thanks, director."

"I wonder, though… are you planning on taking Dave with you?"

"No, of course not… it could be dangerous. He's staying with Breena and Jimmy."

"Well, tell Breena that, if she needs some help, Jackie has already offered to look after the little guy."

His words took Tony by surprise. Not only Vance already knew about his intentions to go to Brazil, _Mrs. _Vance was also aware of it. News traveled fast in the NCIS headquarters.

"That'd be nice. Dave adores Jackie and the kids." He got up, eager to leave and plan his trip, but Vance's voice stopped him at the door.

"Oh, and, DiNozzo…"

"Yes?"

"Be careful. And bring her home safely, will you?"

"I will."

**. . .**

All she had left to do was wait for Monique to work her magic with documents and cover stories. Since 9/11, getting into the US was particularly tricky. Security was stronger there than in most countries, and it took lots of preparation and resources to get through the border.

Ziva had already taken all the necessary precautions: trashed her phone, dyed her hair red, bought herself a pair of green contact lenses and moved to a different hotel, trying to keep NCIS off her trail. This time, she'd chosen a place called Ibis. It was nicer than the cheap motels she was used to, but also much more crowded. She was hoping that the huge amount of people coming in and out would help keep her hidden.

Bored, watching Brazilian television in her small room, Ziva decided to gather some basic info on her next target. Rivera's case had been her last Mossad case, closed in 2005 a few days before she was transferred to DC to work as a liaison with NCIS. She'd been avoiding the memory of it ever since. All her Mossad cases were disturbing, but Rivera's… the stone cold eyes overflowing with anger observing her from afar and the sound of men shouting and children crying filling her ears as she ran to safety were going to haunt her forever. She recalled Rivera as a young, handsome, confident representation of pure evil. Now, although, she had to take into consideration that Mossad wanted her to think of him as evil to make her task easier, and perhaps her opinion on him had been compromised by that. Besides, it all had happened over a decade before. She had no idea of what Rivera had been up to since. It was time to find out.

Ziva got up from the bed, pulled her laptop out of her old backpack, turned it on and opened Google. Internet made stalking people so simple. Most of her recent missions would've been impossible without a decent search engine. Yet, every time she logged on, she had to resist the urge to look up Tony on Facebook. To be honest, she was a little bit afraid of what she'd find if she did.

After scanning through a few basic pages on Rivera's many successful enterprises, she found something interesting.

"_**Panamanian entrepreneur seeks medical attention for sick son**__"_ said the strikingly uncreative headline of the article. "_Javier Rivera, 55 years old, 84__th__ on Forbes' list of World's Richest Men, made his fortune through hard work and natural talent for administration. But, behind the known face of the business tycoon, hides a deeply wounded man. His son, Fernando Rivera, 14, struggles with lymphoma. 'It's hard', stated the pained father in an exclusive interview. 'Having all this money and still being so powerless to help the ones who matter the most. I've already lost my daughter to cancer, I can't afford to lose Ricky as well.'_"

To an usual reader, the story would've sounded mundane, completely believable. Heartbreaking, even. Not to her, though. She was one of the few people who knew the truth. Javier Rivera didn't lose his daughter to cancer. He lost his daughter to Ziva. And that big lie on the article could only have one explanation, the one thing she feared the most. Rivera knew she was alive.

**. . .**

It had been four days since the last time Monique called Ziva through the burner phone they'd found. The calls happened every three days religiously, never missing a date. It couldn't be a coincidence. He had lost the element of surprise. Ziva was onto him, she must've been tipped off somehow. She knew they'd be listening in on the call, so she got rid of the burner phone. He couldn't think of a good way to justify that.

Still, it didn't matter. On the morning of the fifth day post finding her phone number, Tony, McGee and Gibbs boarded a plane to São Paulo, Brazil. The eight hours of flight felt like an eternity. He told himself to keep his expectations lows. For all he knew, the phone could belong to some random friend of Monique's. As much as he tried to, he didn't really believe that. It was hers, he could feel it in his gut.

Once they sat foot on Brazilian soil he believed he was actually close to finding her. Wrong. Since they weren't on official NCIS business, they were obligated to stand around in a line and go through immigration like any other tourist. After two hours playing on his phone impatiently, they were finally released and he went looking for a cab that would take them to Ziva's motel on the other side of the city. He could not believe São Paulo traffic. It made DC traffic look like a Formula 1 race. Anxious as he was, two minutes already felt like too long, but the trip would've still been annoyingly slow if he was in absolutely no rush. From what he could see from the windows, São Paulo wasn't quite what he had imagined. A gray place filled with tall gray buildings, gray streets and gray people. There was an actual gray cloud of pollution floating above it as if the city was secretly on fire but the only evidence of it was the smoke. It looked a lot more like NYC in a rainy day than with the pretty pictures he'd seen of Rio. And it was _huge_. He had read somewhere it was one of the biggest cities in the world. He didn't doubt it. Took him 5 hours to get to the other side.

After paying the cabbie the small fortune of 300 reais, which corresponded to almost 150 dollars, he finally got off the taxi and stretched his legs in front of the shady looking motel Ziva's calls originated from. He walked up the small flight of stairs two steps at the time, reaching the door before the others. The lounge was poorly decorated with old red couches, a beaten-up orange carpet and a few pictures of people he'd never heard of hanging on the walls. One look at the receptionist was enough to tell there was no way he spoke English.

Thinking quickly, Tony pulled a picture of Ziva from his wallet and showed it to the man.

He frowned for a moment, as if trying to figure out why the face was familiar to him. "Ah, sim." He said finally. "Mas ela era loira da última vez que a vi."

"What?" Damn it. He should've bought himself a Portuguese phrase book.

"He's saying that she was blonde the last time he saw her." Said Gibbs, who had just passed through the door. The Boss had picked up a few things about Portuguese while working as a marine.

Tony's heart was racing. He saw her. "Ask him if he knows where she is."

Gibbs nodded. "Sabe onde ela foi?"

"Pegou um taxi alguns dias atrás e não voltou."

"He's saying something about a cab, isn't he?" McGee asked while finally entering the lounge.

"Yes. A few days ago." Gibbs turned his attention back to the receptionist, taking a long time choosing how to word his phrase. "Você…conhecer… motorista?"

"Sim, ele trabalha bastante por aqui. O nome dele é Paulo Freitas."

"What on Earth is going on?!" Tony was tired of being kept out of the loop.

"Ziva got on a cab a few days ago and didn't come back. McGee, find the local taxi service's phone number and ask them about a guy named Paulo Freitas. He was her cabbie, he might be able to tell where she is."


End file.
